by Alex Scarrow
Caligula’s finger remained on Cato’s lips. ‘And, if that doesn’t work, then I can just as easily send plagues on them. Turn the skies black with storms. Make them fear me.’ He smiled. ‘Love and fear… they are, after all, halves of the same circle. At some point on the arc, one becomes the other.’
Caligula was standing so close to him, Cato could feel the emperor’s hot breath on his face. Cato’s hands flexed by his side; his left wrist brushed against the iron pommel of his gladius.
I could kill him now. Reach for my sword and kill him right now.
Only he wouldn’t get a chance. Stern was no more than a yard away and could move frighteningly fast. Cool, dispassionate grey eyes were regarding him closely right now, warily analysing the ticks of muscle in his face, noting the subtle flexing of his fingers near his sword. He could try and reach for it, but Cato doubted he’d even manage to get the blade out of its scabbard before the Stone Man had run him through.
‘I… I am just a soldier, sire,’ said Cato, his lips moving against the light touch of Caligula’s finger. ‘My only concern is your safety. That is all.’
The anger in Caligula’s face, the faraway look in his eyes, vanished in an instant. An ugly mask of rage whipped away and replaced with something that looked genuine: a warm, welcoming smile. He stroked Cato’s cheek affectionately. ‘I love the simplicity in that answer. No judgement… no doublespeak, no lies. The simplicity of a good soldier’s mind. A task, a duty… and how best to perform it.’
Caligula stepped back from him. ‘I will, of course, have both of their heads on spikes for this. Have Crassus arrested immediately.’
Cato nodded. ‘And what about General Lepidus, Caesar?’
Caligula pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘It might be prudent if I were to summon him with no reasons given, rather than openly have him arrested. He may be a fat, spineless slug… but if he suspects he’s shortly due to lose his head, he may try and do something rash.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Tell him…’ Caligula rested a finger thoughtfully on his chin. ‘Just tell him I wish to speak to him. Nothing alarming, do you understand? I merely wish to speak to him.’
Cato nodded. ‘I will see to it immediately.’
‘Good,’ replied Caligula distractedly. ‘Good… and let me know when you have got Crassus. I would like to have a little talk with him as well.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Caligula turned away from Cato and strolled towards the window and balcony that looked out on the darkening city skyline.
‘Ahh, now look. How annoying. I’ve just missed my sunset,’ he uttered wistfully.
CHAPTER 53
AD 54, 18 miles north of Rome
‘ What? ’ General Lepidus sputtered wine across his desk.
‘It’s what I’ve heard, sir. This very afternoon.’
Lepidus stood up and the chair legs barked across the wooden floor. ‘Arrests?’
The young tribune shuffled uncomfortably, his helmet respectfully under one arm. He was still puffing from his exhausting five-hour ride from the city.
‘Come on, Atellus! What are you prattling on about?’ Lepidus’s voice sounded shrill and sharp, almost effeminate; he hated it when nerves, anxiety, made him sound that way.
‘Arrests… Crassus was one of them.’
Lepidus’s wide face instantly paled. ‘Crassus!’
Atellus nodded. Lepidus slumped back down in his chair; it creaked under his heavy frame. He looked shaken. ‘Crassus! Gods help me, he’ll talk at the first sign of pain!’ He looked at his subordinate. ‘And names will be mentioned, Atellus. You and I…’
The tribune nodded.
Lepidus wiped his mouth, his skin already damp and tacky with anxiety. ‘I curse that withered old prune for roping me into his bloody politics!’
A couple of visits, that’s all. Him and Atellus. That had been enough for him to realize the old man was going to get them all killed if he wasn’t a great deal more careful. Lepidus had backed away quickly from the fool’s small gathering of conspirators. Deliberately ignored his repeated invitations to rejoin them. He should never have gone in the first place… but ambition, vanity, had piqued his curiosity. Crassus had suggested Rome might need a Protector in the aftermath, should something happen to Caligula. Someone with power, popular with his soldiers, near to hand… and no great fan of the emperor.
Someone. Someone like himself.
Lepidus had brought along an officer he trusted, Atellus, expecting a lunch at the old politician’s expense and a carefully worded conversation, a gentle probing of his thoughts on what direction Rome should take… should something, regrettably, happen to their emperor.
What he hadn’t expected was an assembly of strangers… and such open, reckless, dangerous talk. And such a pitiful assembly of conspirators! Three senators, a tribune of the Guard and one or two others.
What he should have done, was leave the meeting immediately and report them all to the emperor just as soon as he could. But he hadn’t. He and Atellus had returned and said nothing about the matter to anyone.
Enough right there to be deemed as guilty as Crassus and his conspirators in Caligula’s eyes. And to make matters worse, Crassus had been badgering him to come back. Sending presents even.
‘Dammit!’ He reached for the cup on the desk in front of him, nearly knocking it over and spilling wine across the nest of scrolls in front of him, the routine and endless paperwork of a legion encamped. He emptied the cup quickly and wiped his mouth. ‘That treacherous old snake has been playing games with me!’
‘Sir?’
Lepidus winced, cursed under his breath. ‘He sent me several gifts over the last year. Those Parthian horses? That attractive slave?’
Atellus nodded. He knew full well about them. Most of the camp did. The slave had been particularly well received by the general. ‘Sir, surely those gifts have nothing to do with this — ’
‘Don’t you see, you idiot? Crassus has been trying to make it look like I’m part of his mischief! He’s trying to…’ Lepidus stopped. His eyes widened. ‘Gods help me!’
‘What is it?’
‘I wrote a letter to him… I… thanked him!’ Before he’d attended that meeting he’d been almost seduced by Crassus’s persuasive flattery. His eyes darted left and right as he tried to remember the precise wording of his correspondence. Crassus had sent his gifts with letters punctuated with carefully phrased criticisms of Caligula; subtly worded inducements for Lepidus to expand on that criticism a little more.
Sounding me out. That’s what he was doing.
Lepidus remembered carefully avoiding any references to Crassus’s less than flattering thoughts about the emperor and his appalling neglect of the affairs of the city in his reply. The general quite clearly remembered writing a polite and very neutral ‘thank you’ to the old man for his lovely gifts. But most importantly… ignoring those dangerously obvious phrases; phrases clumsily probing him for where his allegiance lay.
‘Oh, help me!’ he whispered.
‘Sir?’
What he hadn’t done… was immediately forward that correspondence to his emperor. What he hadn’t done was warn Caligula of Crassus’s treacherous mutterings.
Oh, the gods!
The general’s thinking in recent years had been that sitting tight and keeping his head down — waiting this madness out — was the clever strategic game to play. With his two legions permanently encamped a mere day’s march away from Rome, he was perfectly placed to sweep in and replace that insane fool the moment something happened to him.
And something inevitably would. Caligula was mentally unstable. Increasingly so. Believing himself to be a god, immortal… the crazy fool would end up either killing himself in some reckless chariot race to impress his people, or believing he could actually fly and stepping off a high wall. That or some desperate, starving citizen was going to get lucky with a slingshot or an arrow. Caligula’s insanity seemed to be a
pproaching some sort of a feverish crescendo. As if he expected something truly world-changing to happen to him very soon.
But this news? These rumours…?
Gods help him if that exchange of correspondence between him and Crassus should fall into the emperor’s hands. Not participating in any conspiracy the old senator had been quietly organizing was not going to be enough to save him.
‘Sir?’
Lepidus looked up at his tribune.
‘We have to do something, sir. We could be next…?’
Caligula was going to have new heads on spikes all over the city by the first light of morning. And two of them might just be mine and his.
‘Atellus?’
‘Sir.’
‘I want every officer from both legions assembled in my quarters in half an hour!’
‘Yes, sir. What…?’
‘What do I plan to do?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I have no choice, do I? Crassus has made sure of that.’
He thought he saw a grim smile play across his tribune’s lips. ‘Yes. Atellus, I want the men ready to decamp.’
‘Sir… you are considering marching on Rome?’ Atellus hesitated. ‘Confronting Caligula?’
‘Of course I am!’
‘The men, sir… they may not take well to the idea.’
Atellus was quite right. The legions, officers and men’s allegiance was broadly with the emperor. His was the hand that fed them and fed them very well. Lepidus couldn’t be sure his men were going to be behind him. And should an order for his arrest arrive as well…
‘Might I make a suggestion, sir?’
‘Go on.’
‘Let them believe the Guard is moving against the emperor.’
Lepidus nodded slowly. Yes, of course.
‘Mobilize the men, sir. Let them believe we’re marching on Rome to protect Caligula from a palace coup. Tell them the emperor will reward them for their loyalty… that the Guard will be disgraced, disbanded as a result of this treachery.’
Yes… there’s no love lost there between the legions and the Guard.
‘Atellus… every officer in here in half an hour. Move!’
‘Yes, sir!’ The tribune saluted, turned on his heel and swept out of Lepidus’s private quarters.
By first light he was going to have both the Tenth and the Eleventh assembled and ready to march. However the next few days panned out… whether he was going to need to confront the Guard or not, whether he was going to attempt to move against Caligula or not, it would be better to be ready for it; to have his men in their armour and on their feet.
CHAPTER 54
AD 54, Rome
Crassus heard the banging on the large wooden gates to his courtyard. He topped up his cup with the last of his wine as he watched his slave, Tosca, hurry across the courtyard clutching a flickering oil lamp to answer the insistent knocking.
Here they come. He tipped the wine insistently down his throat. A little crimson courage.
Crassus knew his strengths and his weaknesses. He wasn’t a brave man. If he had an ounce of courage in him, he would have stood shoulder to shoulder with all the other senators who’d tried defying the emperor years ago.
Tonight he was going to try and make up for that.
The gates swung in and he saw the purple cloaks of a dozen Praetorian Guards sweeping in past his slave.
‘Master! Master!’ cried Tosca in a panic.
‘Marcus Cornelius Crassus!’ barked a centurion. ‘I have orders for your arrest!’
Crassus recognized the voice. Fronto.
Cato had given the arrest order to an officer he trusted to handle Crassus humanely, gently.
Thank you, Cato.
‘I am here,’ he said shakily, stepping out of the shadows beneath his portico. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
Fronto approached, flanked by his men. He adopted his best officious voice. ‘Marcus Cornelius Crassus, I have orders to escort you to the emperor’s palace. He wishes to speak to you!’
Crassus smiled calmly at Fronto. ‘At this time of night, Centurion? Is he lonely?’
Fronto worked to keep the flicker of a smile off his face. ‘Best come along immediately, sir.’
The old man nodded. ‘Yes, of course… can’t keep a god waiting, can I?’
Tosca hurried forward with a cloak for him. ‘Master! What is happening?’
Crassus patted his slave on the arm affectionately. ‘Nothing to worry about, Tosca, old friend. I shall be back for breakfast no doubt.’
‘Sir?’ said Fronto insistently.
‘Lock the door, Tosca,’ he said quietly. He turned to Fronto, fastening the cloak round his narrow shoulders with a clasp. ‘Centurion? I’m all yours.’
Caligula looked up from the small battle being fought between wooden figurines on the low table in front of him. He’d heard the clatter and jangle of armour, the slap of sandals on stone, all the way from the entrance hall.
‘Ahh… good evening, Crassus.’ He smiled coolly.
Crassus nodded politely as his escort of Praetorians came to a halt a couple of yards before the emperor. ‘Your divinity.’
‘Well… a curious thing happened earlier this evening. Would you like to know what it was?’
Crassus said nothing.
‘Oh? Not in the slightest bit curious?’
‘I suspect you plan to tell me anyway.’
Caligula grinned then frowned curiously. ‘Hmmm, that’s not like you, Crassus. You’re normally so… so meek.’ He leaned forward over his battlelines of miniature wooden legionaries and sniffed the air in front of the old man. ‘Been drinking, have we? A little anxious perhaps?’
‘I am working my way through the wine I have left. Before Rome falls into complete anarchy and is looted by the mob.’
‘ Tsk-tsk.’ Caligula shook his head. ‘I won’t let Rome fall into anarchy. Soon every citizen will be showered with wealth… with their very own casks of wine.’
‘Ahhh… you’re still holding out hope for your special day, are you?’
‘The day Heaven opens for me? Yes, of course. And it is very soon in fact.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so.’ Caligula’s face tightened. ‘You know this troubles me, Crassus; perhaps you can answer this for me. If those dirty savages in Judaea could believe a young, uneducated man, a simple craftsman of some kind I believe… if they could believe this mere troublemaker was to be the king of kings, the son of God… why is it so difficult to believe a Roman emperor could be — ’
‘You are quite mad,’ replied Crassus. ‘And a danger to Rome.’
Caligula was dumbstruck at the man’s candour.
‘There are no gods… or god. These are morality tales, nothing more. Any man with half his wits can see that.’
‘Crassus…’ Caligula’s eyes widened playfully. ‘You do seem to have found your tongue tonight.’
‘You had a reason for bringing me here?’
Caligula stood up. ‘Yes… yes, I do.’ He looked over the old man’s shoulder. ‘Ahhh, Tribune! Come forward.’
Cato joined them and offered Caligula a crisp salute.
‘Tribune… why don’t you tell Crassus here all about your interesting find, hmmm?’
Cato turned to the old man. He kept his voice dry and officious. ‘Correspondence between yourself and Quintus Antonius Lepidus, containing invocations to acts of sedition and treachery.’
‘Pouring your poison into Lepidus’s ears. Very, very naughty of you. Lepidus was a faithful man. A good man.’ Caligula shook his head sadly. ‘I’m sure he believed in me until you started working on him. Now…’ He picked up a wooden soldier from the table. ‘Now I really can’t trust him any more, can I?’
Crassus laughed drily. ‘You can trust no one. No one loves you… many fear you. Me? I just pity you. Your days are numbered.’
Caligula kicked the table between them, sending his wooden soldiers cascading on to the floor. �
�Why? Why can’t you all just wait! Just wait and see!!’
‘Wait? Wait for you to become a god?!’
‘YES!!!!’ Caligula turned away from them all and screamed with frustration into the gloom of the atrium. ‘Just wait!! Wait and see!!!’
Crassus glanced at Cato quickly to see the tribune shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The message was quite clear: don’t provoke him any more. Not necessary.
The old man smiled at his friend. A smile that told Cato that he knew where this exchange was going to take them. That he was ready for it. But most importantly, that Cato should let this happen. To try and stop it… to try to save him, to try and lunge at Caligula would be futile; the emperor’s Stone Men stood close by. Too close.
‘You will never be a god, Caligula… “little boot”. You are nothing more than a failed emperor and a deluded fool!’
Caligula whirled round. ‘Tribune! Your sword!’
Cato looked at the emperor uncertainly.
‘Give me your sword! NOW!’
Cato unsheathed it slowly and presented the handle to Caligula. ‘Caesar, I suggest Crassus be kept alive! He will be a useful source of informa-’
Caligula ignored him and grabbed his sword. He pressed the tip of the blade into the hollow at the base of Crassus’s throat. It drew blood, a small trickle that rolled along the old man’s prominent collarbone, over the edge and soaked into the linen of his toga.
Caligula giggled at the sight of it. ‘Crassus… you do seem to be full of surprises tonight. Do you have a death wish?’
‘I am quite ready to die.’ He glanced quickly at Cato. ‘Ready to make way for a new generation of senators.’ He turned back to Caligula and smiled defiantly. ‘Senators who will very soon be replacing you.’
Caligula’s face bloomed a dark crimson. He thrust the sword forward, hard, until it grated on bone somewhere inside the old man. He laughed excitedly as Crassus gurgled blood, his mouth jerking open and closed several times before he dropped to his knees and flopped forward on to the floor.
Caligula squatted down to examine the old man.
